


Undone

by RedIn



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-30
Updated: 2013-04-30
Packaged: 2017-12-10 00:14:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/779590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedIn/pseuds/RedIn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if...All of them were born but only one of them was recruited by Duncan to turn into the legendary savior who survived. The new hero of Ferelden won the Archdemon, feeding Loghain to it in the process and taking his place as a general under Anora's command. Ferelden survived yet the unity of races didn't last.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prisoner

It was early evening; the air was dry and dusty as expected for the season. The innkeeper, a chubby, bald man, was busy near the kitchen, screaming at one of the elvish servant girls for being clumsy again. "You are a stupid, dirty elf! You suppose to bring a costumer a mug of elf! To bring him, not to spill it at the floor! Remind me why I still keep you here?! "He shouted at her to the much entertainment of the patrons. "You should be grateful to me for taking you in. There are many others just waiting to replace you!" The girl cried for his forgiveness. He was a hard, cruel man to deal with but sleeping on the streets was much worse. She'll improve given the chance. The man snorted and sent her back to the hall room. The costumers were waiting.

The "hall" was an almost medium sized moist from alcoholic fumes and packed, sweating bodies of the patrons. Dull light showed the filth on the walls and floors, the stained plates and mugs. But none seemed to care much anyway. Eating, laughing at each other's dirty jokes mixed with cursing and burping freely, just a regular day at "Golden Pig". One of those "good business days" as the innkeeper called them.

The servants ran between the tables back and forth, carefully avoiding stepping on a drunken young man who snored between the tables. It wasn't out from care but an attempt to thwart dropping the full trays they carried around. The man trashed and moaned occasionally, captured in his bad dreams.

Only a few noticed the door opening and closing behind a quite strange group walking in. Two men fully clad in armor, only their helmets were off and a rather fragile woman between them. The innkeeper blinked in confusion at the newcomers, he was used to another kind of customers: harlots, shady personages and thieves, not arrogant powerful knights whose posture demanded respect and obedience. Templars, by their armor. But costumers were costumers. Especially when their pockets were filled with coins. Oh, he could almost hear the coins ringing in his ears.

He rushed toward the group, offering food and rooms for a night right away. Only then he noticed handcuffs enveloping woman's hands and ankles. The man shuddered, stepping back. A witch! He looked nervously at the knights. "Don't worry." A young one calmed the innkeeper with an arrogant chuckle "The apostate possesses no danger as she is now". The woman looked away; anger and frustration all over her face. She had dark circles under her eyes and her clothes were worn yet she held her head up proudly. One could call her pretty if not her eyes, cold and piercing.

No one paid attention to the drunken young man who twitched at the word "apostate", lifting up his head sleepily. Alistair mumbled to himself as his unfocused caramel eyes anxiously searched around. A very certain memory of an apostate appeared before his eyes causing him to sour.

"Ye..ess good ser. The food is on the way" the innkeeper responded meekly, just glad to move away from the witch. Magic was unknown and frightening, something he preferred to hear only in tales. The knights searched for an unoccupied table. The woman was forced to follow them. They weren't looking at her but she knew they were watching her every breath. She could feel their heavy presence upon her, checking, warning, hostile. They still hated her for taking out the two other Templars before she was smitten against the earth. People started to stare at them with an unhidden interest, fear and disgust. Not every day a view of an imprisoned witch was there to entertain them. Meanwhile the Templars discussed between themselves the fastest route the Circle of Mage as the younger one kept complaining at the rather unusual mission-capturing the apostate and to bring her back, alive.

She was scared, yes she was. Scared, alone and exhausted. Those scums in uniforms gave her a good chase all over the woods. She had an idea why they captured her instead of killing but was grateful to be just alive for now. She knew that Arka would be worried not to find her at an agreed upon meeting point. Her mind dared to hope for a moment that her allies will find her, somehow. Two days passed since she was captured and she's still a prisoner. Such a foolish thought, a vain one. The reality was much less fair indeed.

Istowanne Amell simple sat there, refusing to lower her gaze against the prying stares of the interested folk around. Her knees shook from hours of walking and her empty stomach sent waves of dizziness through her limbs. Still her pride was the only thing she had right now, keeping her straight. As long as she breathes there is a hope. I'm alive; I may still have my chance against all the odds...


	2. Entanglement

The food was brought before the knights. Despite innkeeper's hopes, the Templars ordered some vegetables, eggs, bread and water. He was disappointed with their simple choice.

The men began to eat, ignoring their prisoner's hungry stare. Istowanne sighed as she realized she'll end this day with an empty stomach, again. She felt dizzy again, lowering her eyes from the temptation of the food. Too bad her she could still to smell it.

The previously frightened patrons now eyed her openly, examining her stiff form with curiosity that slowly grew up into hunger of flesh. Many of them didn't see a woman for a while, a fresh one particularly. Indeed she was a witch, dangerous and terrifying, but right now she was a handicapped woman. Right now she was a weaker being. Istowanne felt their undressing glances, trying her best to look uncaring and intimidating But inside the panic began to rise. . She could fight back or to shape shift and run away. If only those sodding garbage in metal plates weren't there to smite her any time they wanted to. So she was in a big disadvantage.

Caught by their conversation the Templars were oblivious to the interest their captive awoken. It took them a while to see how quiet the so noisy room became. Finally the cheekier from the crowd stepped forth with a proposal "to borrow" the witch for a while. He was a filthy, long haired man, taller and broad shouldered. Their leader as it appeared.

"WHAT?!" asked the astounded Templar "You can't be serious on that. She's very dangerous and under our custody. Go find yourself a woman elsewhere." A wave of whispers passed between the members of his band. Some of them started to debate, unwilling to mess up with the armored knights. "I'll advice you to go on your business." The oldest of them spoke to the gazing patrons. "Well, it's ok for you to watch then" the leader kept trying. He smiled, exposing his rotten teeth, some of them were missing. "What a lovely view." Istowanne thought in disgust. "We'll return her soon and everything will be just fine. We don't want any troubles, do we guys?" Sounds of approval were his answer. "Sadari is right. We'll give back after a few hours. None will be hurt" a few hesitant voices rose.

A younger Templar raged up, hand on the hilt of his sword "By the Maker! Are you threatening us?" He felt a hand on his shoulder. "Calm down, Sir Oscar." said the older Templar after a short pause. "We can come to a peaceful resolution here. No need for violence ". The older man was quite aware of balance of power. They were two against ten and honestly the witch wasn't worth to fighting for. "Our orders were to bring her alive. That's all" he reminded to his younger companion and added quietly "For sir Wint and Sir Kamilian, for their lost lives..." Istowanne shot him a terrified look. They are going to give her to those savages, like a mindless chicken! She felt a wave of fear and hate coming up her throat. "Templars, spineless fools. I hate them..".

Sir Oscar nodded almost immediately, his comrades' death still fresh in his memory. They have lost half of their group before smiting down the furious apostate. "No! someone… help..." Istowanne thought, her face turning paler at the frightening development of events.

"No-ooo, THAT'S W-RR-WRONGG. " a voice interfred . It was the drunken man who seemed to be fully awake now. "She, sh—eee an baddd wi-wii-tch, Yes. Buuudttt Iths noth RIGHTH to treathd he-err like..likee ..thattd ..Letss, just dri..drin..k..all" Alistair wavered forth, his attempt to reason with them failing completely. None was impressed by his words, even worse, he was pushed away. The man still tried to protest but none bothered to listen to him. The Templars were about to agree, the fun was about to begin. "If the Maker does exist, he truly had abandoned me" Istowanne exclaimed silently. "I'm in such a shitty situation and the only one he sent to rescue me is that sodding drunk nug lover..CRAP!"


	3. Hope

"Hey. Guyszz. Let's calm down. ISZZ WRONG," Alistair tried again. He pushed himself between the woman and the bloodthirsty audience. Despite being an ex-Templar, he just couldn't watch the scene silently. Even an apostate didn't deserve to be treated like that.

Sadari giggled in amusement. "Look guys, we have a rightful knight here, ready to save his princess." Ignoring Alistair's objection, the lout continued, "If you want her so much, wait for your turn. I don't mind sharing." Alistair jerked in disbelief, suddenly sobering up. "What?!" He clenched his fists helplessly. What could he do, alone against so many?

Istowanne awarded her would-be saviour with a critical glare. Why is he trying again and again? Why would he choose to protect a stranger, an apostate? What a sodding fool, he is even not armored! Templars or not, I can't just sit here and do nothing. I won't go down without a fight!" Istowanne decided. "Now about cutting the snake's head before it can strike..." A series of quick calculations ran through her head. As she was now, weak and out of mana, there wasn't much she could do. The Templars might decide to slay her if she tried to cast a spell, any spell. Perhaps she could to put her intimidating charms in action. It had helped her many times before.

The woman stood up slowly, facing Sadari. She was tall, taller than most of the men. Usually they lost some of their confidence when she towered above them, got nervous, some even took a step away. Istowanne used that little fact to her advantage whenever she needed. She gave him her famous, non-blinking gaze, a skill she had years to polish at annoying apprentices and sometimes even on Templars back in the Tower." One more step and you'll miss more than a few teeth," she assured him calmly, still staring.

Sadari gulped for air. He wasn't used to looking up at a woman or being stared at in such a way. This woman was truly a witch, intimidating to her bones. It seemed his "friends" felt the same way. She wasn't a weakling they could feast on. The gang exchanged gazes, trying to find the bravado in each other eyes. The Templars chose simply to watch for now. They wouldn't interfere.

With all eyes focused on Istowanne, the arrival of two more characters was barely noticed. The newcomers studied the situation quickly. Dusty and tired, yet determined, an elf and a dwarf took their time to adjust, weighing the options.

Ershko Tabris frowned. They had found her, although the tracking part wasn't easy at all; luckily the Dalish had taught him well. This is not looking good, he thought. The bald dwarven maiden by his side grumbled something about sodding mages and troubles.

Meanwhile Istowanne stood her ground against Sadari and his currently debating gang. "You are one and we are many. You are no threat to us" he announced, irked. She just smiled at him as the doubt in his voice was clear to all. Of course she knew she wasn't a match for them in her condition. Still, Istowanne bluffed with all she had, desperately.

Her eyes located the two standing behind, silent figures and a small light of hope lit up. It was a miracle for Arka and Ershko to actually track her down. Blinking, she looked back at Sadari as if not paying attention to her allies' arrival.

Ershko's hands slid to his thighs, hands closing around hilts of his daggers. They would have to fight them all to rescue their dear comrade. His eyelids narrowed; a usual sign of him being tensed. Arka reached out for her hammer, ready to burst forth. "Look at them, they are all around her and still she's causing them to shake like a cornered nug. I just love this girl," she chuckled, revealing her white teeth.

The innkeeper watched the scene helplessly, worried that his property would be set on fire any moment. This witch woman looked like she might do something awful any second. Frightened elf servants chose to withdraw, abandoning the plates they carried around. "Maker, have mercy on my poor inn" he pouted, grabbing his head and following the servants' example quickly.


	4. Fighting

It was the moment Sadari grabbed Istowanne's hand that decided what was next to come. The drunkard shook his head in disapproval. Everyone froze for a brief moment before everything burst into chaotic action.

"ARKAAAAA!" the witch cried out, pushing Sadari away with all her might. The dwarf brute charged forth, surprisingly quick for someone with short legs, head slamming into the closest Templar. She knew she would have to occupy those armored humans for Istowanne to cast spells. The knight fell down, taken by surprise. The other one, however, was quick to act .He grabbed his shiny shield and smashed the dwarf.

Alistair's immediate reaction to the progressing quarrel was to grab a nearest chair. Ser Oscar yelped, feeling something hard shattering against his back. Encouraged, Alistair tried to strip the knight of his shield but was punched by a knight's older companion. He lost his balance, painfully landing on his butt. An angry dwarf female charged again, taking on both of the Templars in her rage.

Ershko was already there, swift and deadly, sliding between two still surprised men. He ran his dual blades through the side of their inner knees, cutting the tendons in a smooth fashion. Their screams of pain and falling bodies were a welcome reaction. The red haired rogue leaped above his victims, but was blocked by two other men and forced to retreat temporarily. A few accurately thrown acid bombs bought him some time.

Using the element of surprise, Istowanne turned away, desperately scanning the area in search for something she could use as a weapon. All she found was a half empty ale mug .Puffing, she reached out for it.

A rough hand grabbed her by hair from behind, pulling back. A surprised huff escaped apostate's dry lips. "You'll pay for that you witch whore," Sadari promised her as he tightened his grip. Concentrating was much harder than she remembered. Yet she persisted. The mug's surface and content hardened, cold fumes encircling it. Crap! COLD! COLD! Istowanne struck her attacker with a frozen ale mug. It made a fine impact with Sadari's head. The man's eyes rolled up as he dropped down on his knees, obviously neutralized for now.

Dropping the improvised weapon, she leant over the table. Red circles danced before her eyes, she was exhausted, reaching her limit, unable to cast anymore.

"Are you enjoying yourself, my dear? I know I am." A familiar and somewhat annoying voice brought Istowanne back to reality. She glanced at Ershko, noticing the bloody stains all over his smiling face and clothes. "Oh well.." a biting comment died on her lips. The world exploded in red as the apostate lost her consciousness.

"No, no, Istowanne, don't fall apart!" Ershko rushed to catch her limp body. "By Andraste's nipples, what bad timing, woman!"

They had to leave now. Ershko didn't plan to carry the witch all the way out. He couldn't even if he wanted to. Light as she was, Istowanne was larger than him and strength never was one of Ershko's virtues. He could drag her out, risking being slaughtered on the way by a bunch of very angry humans. His head half spinning, Ersko could see Arka being flanked by Templars. The dwarf held up for now but for how long?

"You" Ershko pointed at the young man. He was trying to help Arka before, wasn't he?

Alistair looked at the elf, still trying to stand up but failing for a fourth time in row. "Eyes here, on me" Ershko demanded. "Focus!" Alistair nodded, finally succeeding and standing on his feet, steadily this time. He touched his swollen cheek carefully. He discovered, gratefully, that all of his teeth remained whole.

The elf hurried to order Alistair further, already searching for the few smoke bombs left in his bag. "I need you to carry her out, I need my hands free." The human nodded "To lift up. To carry. Her. To follow you. Right. Got it". He lifted up the unconscious mage easily, one hand wrapping around shoulders and the other supporting under her knees. She was tall indeed, but not heavy at all.

"And I'm out of ammunition, again, just great," the elf muttered angrily. He had spent his last, precious smoke bombs just a moment ago. "Arka, come," he screamed through the thick clouds of smoke before holding his breath, unwilling to inhale the smoke. Only the Maker knew when he would be able to reach his laboratory next. He ran towards the exit, the coughing human following him with the limp mage in his broad arms.


	5. Escape

They run through the door using the deviation smoke gave them, the dwarf is puffing behind them as she cursing humans and their long legs. Alistair gave Ershko a questioning stare. The red haired elf looked around anxiously. He was in charge again and didn't enjoy it. Where was Philip when he was needed? Being a leader was a burden at times.

Ershko was sure he heard some neighing before, when they approached the inn. The source of his desire was found behind the building, in a small, scruffy stable. Two large horses raised their heads from the dull hay and calmly eyed the strangers.

"We are going to steal Templars horses, aren't we!?" Alistair's eyebrows flew up in disbelief. "Congratulations, dear friend. Now you are not only assisting an apostate to escape but a common thief too." The elf winked at him "Or did you think to run away all the way on your feet?"

"No comments." Alistair rolled eyes dramatically. "We have no time for that. I can hear them coming closer."Arka urged them. Still holding the limp apostate in his arms he and the dwarven woman followed the elf as he freed the horses from their cells.

"And here we are having only two horses." Ershko frowned for a second. "I'll ride with Arka then. The second is for you and Isto." With a short nod, Alistair mounted one of the stallions, carefully placing the unconscious mage before him; his arms are around her, preventing her from falling. "Stop them!" came an urging voice from not far away. Alistair recognized him as one of the Templars. "They are running away with our horses!" yelped another, his heavy armor slowing down his haste.

"No way I'll ride a sodding hoo.." Arka choked on her angry murmur as a strong arm pulled her up, almost throwing behind Ershko's saddle. She hissed in surprise and griped Ersko's sides' immediately. The rogue smiled at Alistair, approving.

"All'ta reehal doreesh..luw'..low'eer ferashen dazerre?"

It was frustrating. Istowanne always considered herself above average. She knew she was smart. Yet the text's translation made no sense and the girl was impatient. Istowanne leaned forth with a defeated grunt and grimaced. "By Irving's beard, cursed is whoever was bored enough to invent Arcanum!" She muffled under her breath. An older, blond boy next to her raised his head at her from reading. She closed the ancient tome in frustration ignoring his gaze. A small cloud of dust fluttered the girl as if countering her actions. Istowanne sneezed a few times, growing angrier with every sneeze. Cariad's melodic laughter annoyed the apprentice even more. She tore her tired eyes from the dictionary and looked at her dearest friend.

Cariad kept smiling at her, her sincere smile melted Istowanne's anger. She couldn't resist as usual. Cariad was a sweet, beautiful and very friendly girl. Even the Templars were affected by her brightness. Sometimes Istowanne wondered why someone as Cariad was friends with a bitter, bitchy person as herself. For some reason the blond girl always was nice to Istowanne, even when she didn't return the favor.

"I am sure the translation is precise. I was checking it over, time after time. But the damn text has no meaning, just a random mess of chatter." She complained quietly. Cariad sat near, glaring wide eyed, at barely readable handwriting of her classmate. "You left us far behind Wanne" the girl admitted "We just began the subject a week ago and here you are, already translating texts from the history book.

The blond haired boy by her side just chuckled" Stop frowning nonstop, you'll look like that old broody teacher, what was her name, Clara? Corala? Are you sure you two not related?" Anders snorted out his amusement. "Stop needling me Anders or.." Istowanne threatened the boy. "What will you do Wanne? Set me on fire?" he wiggled eyebrows at her suggestively. The annoyed girl responded with a few very not lady like words but was rewarded with a cheeky smile.

"Stop it, both of you. Please! Did you forget we are not alone in the library. Ser Martin is watching." Cariad whispered nervously, her smile vanishing as if never existed. Istowanne and Anders ceased their bickering immediately. The last thing they wanted is to draw an unwanted attention.

Istowanne dared to turn her head around. Indeed, the Templar was watching them; his eyes are sparkling unfriendly through the eye holes of his helm. "Shit" she cursed as the armored man moved towards their small group. Anders tensed against the chair's handle; Cariad wore on her politest smile.

This one was never sympathetic towards the apprentices, quick to find flaws in their action and even quicker to punish. No wonder any mage felt a sudden urge to melt into a nearest wall when Ser Martin was around.

The children froze. The Templar was coming at them. Anders grabbed Istowanne's shaking hand. "Don't look him in the eye" he reminded the trembling girl. "You remember what happened the last time you did, do you?" She nodded and lowered her head, not eager to spend the next week isolated again.

The air wavered around her in alert. Something wasn't right. That was the moment she realized she was in Fade.

A terrified squeak brought her eyes up. The Templar held Cariad by neck. "Noooo!" she heard herself screaming as waves of rage running through her body. Yet she couldn't move, her limbs are suddenly stiff and unwilling. The Templar laughed, his form is melting into a chilling shadow before her eyes. Istowanne took a sharp breath, sweating and terrified. The library, Anders and everything else broke into a million of pieces of broken glass shards dancing around her. Only she and Cariad remained in this chaos of twitching nowhere.

The demon in Cariad skin turned to her. Her gaze was empty of any emotion or thought. She just stood there. A living puppet, marked by a still fresh mark of tranquility.

Istowanne cried out her friend's name in despair. "Not again! Stop torturing me! She's is gone! I can't fix it!" The empty face of what was her friend once kept staring at her blankly. Shaking her head, the mage backed off. "I won't give in fiend!" she yelled at the disappointed demon.

With a hoarse cry the mage awoke. She wasn't in the library anymore, surrounded by half dead trees and dry grass. There were worried faces above her, their lips are forming questions. It took her a few moments to give those faces names. "I'm fine..I just had another bad dream. Stop worrying about me." Istowanne cut off their query, unwilling to share her nightmare.

Ershko sighed and pulled Arka away. "She'll be ok. She's one tough piece of human." He whispered to the concerned dwarf. Catching Alistair watching the scene in confusion Ershko turned to him. "Care to collect some wood?" he asked the silent human with a faint smile.


End file.
